The Last Russian Doll Novels & Stories

ing. One day, while they were playing in Meg’s study, Ruth managed to pull open a drawer to an old bureau, one Meg hadn’t looked in for as long as she could remember. There, in the bottom lay one of her old dolls, the one she had called simply, “Dolly.” As Ruth gasped in delight and reached for the plaything, Meg gathered both the little girl and the remembrance into her arms, sitting down on the rug as Ruth wiggled and shouted, “Baby!”

Afterward, they strolled through the artisan section of the mall. Leanna was fascinated by a set of nesting dolls, each containing five layers of dolls. “Zoey, look at this! It’s so cute, one inside the other!” Zoey watched her, a sudden realization flashing in her mind. This is it!

His voice was low and strained. "Mira, your mom woke up asking for the song." I stopped in the middle of the parking lot. "The Last Firework?" "The old version," he said. "The one you two made when you were little. She keeps saying she wants to hear it before she sleeps." My mother had been in hospice for three weeks.

Well, alive or dead, I didn't care as long as he was away from me. The auction continued for a long time. It wasn't my first time, so I was a little bored. Nothing caught my eye. It was nearing the end when the host finally presented the thing we searched for. ''Ladies and gentlemen, the last item which you will have the opportunity to bid for is this ancient hourglass. According to the legend, it belonged to an ancient empress 4000 thousand years ago. She used it as a tool to control and instil fear in her subjects. However, she got punished by a curse for her bad deeds. Now, we don't know if any if this is true, but the diamonds and rubies are real.'' He laughed pretentiously, and some peo

I asked, pacing around with a gun in my hands, she had created a dark web selling the babies, and I really didn't know how precious these babies were, as many terrorists and foreigners were willing to put billions for them. “One point two now.” “Billion?” “Yes sweetheart, I'm sure it's going up; the Russians are not even here yet.” “What? Russians?” I chuckled, “What will Russians do with the babies?” “Because honey, Hudson is crazy about Anastasia; he would do anything for her, and everyone knows it. And the key to the US would do anything for Hudson.” “What?” Okay, what was she trying to say?

Rummaging through my bag to find my wallet, Evette surprised me with her question; "Hey, that's a cute teddy bear! Where'd you get it?" "Oh this," I get it out and to the table with a smile yet confused look. "Actually, this was left in front of my door this morning. I thought maybe a little kid left behind while playing around my neighborhood..." "That's possible, but I'd never seen any kid in your neighborhood.. could be visiting a relative of theirs there..." That is true. I, too, had never once seen a kid running around my neighborhood.. whose doll is this? Scanning the stuff toy, it is white in color and seems like new. This must be bought either today or yesterday, but whose is it?

So much more important than thread and stuffing and glass eyes, wrapped in a half-torn dress. I still feel bad about that doll. The one I saved from a hooker name. A doll I carried around with me for years, and now remember only in flashes. Bare, bright impressions, like seeing something through burned retinas. Seared over everything in a glowing silhouette. The same as Loki. I barely met Loki, but when I remember him it’s with a sick stirring so deep and violent it’s like there’s a clawed hand rammed down my throat. Churning my guts around. Turning my insides into so much fine flesh confetti.

She stares wide-eyed at the Queen who just emerged from the inner chamber. Yuelan’s notes the guilty look on her servant’s face and decides to mess with her. She heard what the servant said about the doll. Not necessarily true. The doll is just someone she is using to distract herself from her horrid marriage, but she can’t have her personal servant spewing nonsenses. The girl needs to learn to keep her mouth shut. “Who am I obsessed with?” She questions in a calm tone like she is having a conversation about the weather with servant. While she waits for the servant to answer her question, she strides to set table and takes a sit. Suddenly she feels very farmish.

I couldn't hear what they were talking about for voices still mingled together. Claire looked excited as she received an elegant gift. Her hands fussed over the box eagerly. It was all normal until a shocking gut feeling hit me out of nowhere. Claire opened the wooden lid and everyone laughed merrily when they saw what was inside. There was a beautiful Matryoshka Doll within the cushioned interior. Claire picked it up from the box and started twisting the doll just to reveal another one hidden inside it. They laughed good-naturedly as she began to open the next one and then the next one. But instead of finding the last doll, they saw a weird-looking device with blinking light. Then it was as

Her skin crawled. She curled tighter into the furs, trying to disappear into them, heart hammering loud enough she feared the creatures might hear it. A new voice whispered — soft, reverent, chilling: “He has not bitten one in centuries… the last woman died screaming… this one breathes still… she breathes… why does she breathe?” Her throat closed. She clapped both hands over her ears. “Stop,” she whispered. “Stop. Stop.” But the whispers continued. “She wears his scent.”